


Breakages

by millygal



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, episode coda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5374217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Do No Harm, HA!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bewareofdragons](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bewareofdragons).



Perna lays motionless on her cot; face bathed in muted light from the dirt encrusted window above her sagging bed.

Despite the agony of her death, the tragedy of a life wasted, one which could have been full of meaning and hope, there's a subtle smile playing across her colourless lips.

Carson Beckett is _not_ a violent man, nor is he one prone to using his emotions as a way of excusing outbursts of fury, but right now he could happily destroy everything in the room with his bare hands.

If not for the scents and sounds of a heated space too crammed with the sick and the dead he'd be kicking and punching and screeching his righteous indignation. Or, at the very least using some of his grandmother's favourite curse words.

Heart heavy with assumed responsibility for a horror still playing out around him, he goes back to work.

~~~~~~~~~~

Rodney McKay is worried.

As a general rule he doesn't do concern for his fellow man, but in this instance he thinks perhaps he needs to reach out.

He hasn't seen Beckett in hours, not since he limped off the Puddle Jumper dragging his kit bag behind him; chin glued to his chest, eyes refusing to meet any of the questioning gazes aimed in his direction.

The whole Hoffan mess has taken it's toll on the entire team, but no one more so that Carson Beckett who honestly thought he was doing something for the greater good. Instead, Rodney's oldest and most moral friend is coping with the thought that he helped start a genocide so atrocious it will go down in the Atlantis history books as one of their worst losses.

He's trekked the length and breadth of the base, calling in on all of Beckett's usual haunts, from the infirmary to the ob's decks where he sometimes likes to swing his legs over the side and feel the wind whistle passed his ears.

The doctor says it makes him feel small, and to Rodney that concept is idiotic, but to a man who spends his days dealing with illnesses that show no regard for station or stature he supposes it brings Beckett's world into some kind of perspective.

Sighing, realising he's tried everywhere _but_ Beckett's quarters, Rodney spins on his heals and heads towards his friends bunk. It's usually the last place you'll find him, even after a long shift of patching up the crew, he prefers the company of those who's health and happiness he has a hand in.

~~~~~~~~~~

Carson's drunk.

No, drunk is a bit of an understatement at this point.

Drunk is laughing and joking and slipping off a bar stool to the cat calls and applause of your friends.

This isn't that kind of intoxicated.

This is completely pie eyed on a Saturday evening sitting in a pool of your own vomit on the curb outside the Twa Tams in Perth, waiting for the bouncer to roll you into a taxi with the toe of his boot because he can't stand the thought of your stench sticking to his trouser legs for the rest of the night!

Hunched cross legged on the floor of his quarters, head lolling from side to side, one eye closed so he can at least try and locate the bottle of Glen Moray that seems to keep jumping about in front of his face, Carson can't quite figure out if he'd be better off trying to sleep here or keep drinking until moving is no longer an option.

"Idiot. Ya'r a damned idiot!"

His voice hangs heavy in the air, mocking, bouncing back at him from stark cold walls hung with no mementos of home, other than one picture of his Mama who would be abjectly horrified if she could see her son right now.

Her stinging disapproval rings sharp in his ears, _"Look at yee, what do yee think ya doin' young man? This isn't the boy I raised, this isn't the man who's only wish was t'be a doctor and help people! Get up!"_

Just as he's about to say sorry out loud to a woman who's so many miles away she may as well be dead, he hears the hiss of his door as it slides smoothly open.

"Beckett, what in the hell?"

Rodney strides into the room, expecting to find Carson sitting on the edge of his bed with that kicked puppy look on his face, what he finds is a parody of the man who's been the one consistently moral compass in his life, "Jesus man, do you have any idea what you look like? Get up!"

Carson laughs harshly, rolls onto his knees and uses the couch to drag himself to Rodney's waist height before blinking blearily and flipping him off, "A bit of a state 'm sure, but I did'n ask yee to come lookin' so why don't ya piss off and leave me to it!"

Turns out you can take the man out of Scotland, but you can't take Scotland out of the man, not after what looks like three quarters of a bottle of fifteen year old Malt Whisky, "Well, least I know you _are_ capable of being as obnoxious as the rest of us. Come on Carson, this isn't how you deal with stuff, everyone else, yes, but not you!"

Carson rolls his eyes and instantly regrets is as the floor comes up far too quickly to meet his spinning head, "Rodney, sod off. I did'n ask yee ta come and check up on me, and I certainly don' need ya nannyin' me, which is ridi..redec...ridicu...fuckin' stupid considerin' how much of an arse yee are when it comes ta givin' a shit about ya fellow man."

The bark of laughter Rodney lets loose isn't something he can help, it's an involuntary reaction to a man who's usually so buttoned up it's painful to watch, letting loose a tirade Sheppard would be proud of, "Wow, don't sugar coat it will you?"

Struggling into an almost upright position, Carson slams his forehead onto his bent knees and prays for a release from the facockta attempts at comfort Rodney's doling out, "McKay, what have I done?"

Sighing, knowing this isn't the time for his patented half assed pat on the back and 'it'll be okay' speech, Rodney sits down on the couch behind Carson and lays a hand gently on his friends shoulder, "You did what you thought was right Beckett, just like you always do. It wasn't your fault that..."

"What, what was'n my fault?! The fact that I jus' managed ta kill half a colony of people who've been successfully hidin' out from the Wraith for the last hundred years! Or the fact that my hands will be covered in their blood for the rest of my life! Do no harm Rodney, DO NO HARM!"

Nothing Rodney says will stop Carson's heart from breaking, and there's nothing he'd risk saying that might make his best friend's life harder right now, so, instead of opening his mouth only to change feet, Rodney slides from the couch, slips his arms around the huddled man next to him and grips him tight as he cries himself out.

Carson knows this isn't Rodney's forte, and he's damned sure he'll deny it if ever questioned, but the warmth of the arms anchoring him to the here and now are a comfort, more of a comfort than Beckett knew McKay was capable of, and he's so very grateful!

Allowing the weight of the day to drag him under, Carson's eyes flutter and close, safe in the knowledge that Rodney will be there when he wakes, with a cold glass of water and a mocking grin.

Business as usual.

**Author's Note:**

> For bewareofdragons over on livejournal.


End file.
